Lyrics Your Saint - Oscar Jerome, Brother Portrait

Your Saint

In search of streets of gold
The road may lead to Feneos
Where the river begin but the journey doesn’t end, no
Winding through a valley
You may reach a sulphurous swamp
Place a coin in the mouth of your loved one
So they can be ferried across
Shield their eyes to the damned that eternally choke
These muddy waters replace the dirty words that they spoke
You may ask yourself how did I end up around these ways
And the wind replies «My friend, you were at the right time in the wrong place»
(Your saint only cares for money)
(Don't you touch his sense of pride)
Your saint only cares for money
Your saint only cares for money
Don’t you touch his sense of pride
Your saint only cares for money
Your saint only cares for money
Don’t you touch his sense of pride
Parris' arrow is hot on your heels
A scholar caught in the rain
Unnoticed, unnamed
Your saint only cares for money
Don’t you touch his sense of pride
Don’t you touch his sense of pride
Shoulder to shoulder, most faces face back
The only warm air was breath through a whispered prayer
Left in the name of God, of family, of land
Arrive and cry thanks into trembling hands
How could I survive ain’t even a question of life
My passage had no ticket just a price
The debt makes my cheek run rivers
Turns sleep to a threat
I dream faces I will never touch again
Each body across water, a spirit still tethered to a place
That meant purpose was being
That sang sweet I ams
Still tethered now straining my face
Pulled into shapes of mourning
Now home is a burial ground
Testing faith and grace
All fearful, appalling
Same time panic and dash, same time still chase
All missed calls and calling
A right time, never
This time forever
Bones calling out «will you bury us here?»
Really?
Heart still burning, black core, red fire
All for love
How come they scared can’t see
The purpose, the power, my sacrifice, the beauty in me
Why they grimace and spit, play fickle with life
Turn hope into a hell for me
Your saint only cares for money
Your saint only cares for money
Don’t you touch his sense of pride
Your saint only cares for money
Your saint only cares for money
Don’t you touch his sense of pride
Parris' arrow is hot on your heels
A scholar caught in the rain
Unnoticed, unnamed
Your saint only cares for money
Don’t you touch his sense of pride
Don’t you touch his sense of pride